


The Sound of Silence

by hikarufly



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: Hello darkness... oh no, not that. This is a little collection of missing scenes from Call the Midwife I imagined between the definitive OTP that Dr Turner and Shelagh are. They are so cute <3 and since they fell in love without grand gestures and in silence, I thought of this title. Enjoy!English is not my first language.





	1. Chapter 1

Miss Shelagh Mannion opened the front door of her new house with her keys. It was so strange to see her right hand without the ring she used to wear as a nun.

She had spent the night before in a hotel room, in some respectable and spartan place. Dr Turner had accompanied her, just to be on the safe side. She had cried a little, after the compline she could not really renounce to all of a sudden, but had an early and quite night. She was resolved. The previous day spent looking for lodgings had found her a room in a terraced house at the edge of Poplar, property of a very gentle yet strict elderly spinster with a little problem with her eye-sight. She had left her new address to the kind doctor, just in case. The fact that she had been a nun had reassured the landlady, and things were easily settled.

She entered the house, and was greeted by the elderly lady with a smile. Shelagh felt awkward but soon got to her own room and was able to settle. Only a change of clothes was put in the wardrobe, the empty suitcase under the bed. She looked in the mirror and recognized herself: how wonderful to feel comfortable in her own skin! After months of doubt and illness, she was able to do what she felt God meant for her. A new life, and a new purpose: first herself, and then Dr Turner. Well, Patrick.

«Miss Mannion?» asked someone from the door. She opened it: her landlady looked a bit cross.

«Yes, Miss Dawlish?» she replied, puzzled.

«There is a gentleman at the door, looking for you.» the landlady told her. «I hope he will not stay: no men are allowed to stay alone with my tenants, not even in the parlour.»

Shelagh smiled a clumsy smile.

«Is it Pat... Dr Turner?» she enquired, blushing. The elderly lady gestured her to come downstairs with her.

It was indeed him, and the landlady, now seeing him better with her very big glasses, became even more severe: had she left the convent because of...?

«She... Miss Mannion.» he said, without daring to step inside.

«Dr Turner...» Shelagh replied.

«I hope I am not disturbing you, I was passing by at the end of my rounds, and...» he stammered a little.

«Don't worry, I have just unpacked. This is my landlady, Miss Dawlish.»

The elderly woman got closer.

«I am acquainted with Dr Turner, Miss Mannion. I had some problems with my health recently.» the lady said, sharply.

«Nothing too serious, I hope.» said the Scottish girl, sincerely concerned. Her landlady softened her expression.

«I am fully recovered, thank you dear. Dr Turner, please would you step inside? It is very cold and I was making some tea to welcome my new tenant. Her qualifications were spotless, I hope you will confirm me that.» Miss Dawlish said, with a very striking look. The doctor nodded, his look definitely turning to Shelagh, full of delight.

«Exceedingly spotless, Miss.» he said, getting in and closing the door behind him. «Thank you for your invitation, I would really like a cup of tea in this weather.»

They sat in the parlour in an awkward silence, and then, when the kettle finally whistled, Miss Dawlish went to the kitchen, refusing politely Shelagh's help, but looking at them through every little corner she could, to avoid unchaperoned contacts.

Patrick and Shelagh caught each other's eyes, and as times before, words were not necessary. Their smiles and looks were enough. They both tried not to giggle at that situation: a widower and a former nun, being watched like two teenagers, believed to be on the bring of flying to Gretna Green like in a 18th century novel.

Miss Dawlish returned to the sitting room with the teapot, but Dr Turner helped her with the weight.

«I'll be mother, doctor, thank you.» she reassured him, as she poured the tea over the milk after a few more minutes of silence.

«So... you just arrived, Miss Mannion?» asked Patrick. Shelagh nodded.

«Just now, Doctor.» she confirmed.

«I wanted to give you the latest news about Chummy.» he then said, and the landlady eyebrow got straight up. The genuine concern of her tenant, however, made her feel a bit guilty about nasty thoughts.

«A former colleague, Miss Dawlish. As I told you I was a nun and a midwife, at Nonnatus house.» she explained. «How is she? And the baby?» Shelagh asked to Patrick then.

«She regained consciousness and the little boy is more than fine.» Dr Turner explained. «They are both recovering slowly but well.»

Shelagh lightened up her expression like a sunrise.

«Oh, thank the Lord. Please, give them my blessings and wishes.» she said.

«Of course. And Timothy sends his greetings. He hopes you are getting along fine.» he continued.

«Timothy?» asked Miss Dawlish.

«My son, Miss. As you may remember, I am a widower.» he explained. The woman looked at his left hand, and the wedding band she remembered was gone. Shelagh remembered it too, and when she realised he had taken it off her heart jumped pleasantly in her chest.

«Of course, of course. A very fine boy, as I recall.» she nodded to herself, sipping her cup.

They all did sip them.

«I was wondering... may I be of any assistance to you?» asked the doctor then, evidently eager to reach her hand with his, but not daring to.

«You are... very kind, doctor. But I can manage.» she replied, and then had an idea. «Actually, I have something you might bring the sisters, if you would be so kind.»

Patrick said he would, by all means.

«Could you wait here for a moment? I have left it in my room.» she said, and left doctor Turner with the landlady.

Shelagh got straight upstairs and wrote down a very quick yet legible note, with a small writing on the envelope: “read it as soon as you get out of here”.

Luckily, he took it and got the note straight away, without letting Miss Dawlish know. They exchanged their goodbyes very politely, even if their yearning to not be separated could be very adamant to anyone who would pay the right attention.

As Patrick got in the car, he opened the letter: it asked to meet her the following day, after practice, in a crowded street far from that house and from Nonnatus. She perfectly knew his schedules, having worked with him for so long.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Shelagh never really had a fashion sense. Her mother used to pick her dresses, to enhance the blond in her hair or the blue in her eyes, at least for the time she had been alive. She had lost her too soon... her nanny more for the most plain colours and fabrics, and for use instead of appearance in a frock. The only thing Shelagh remembered about how her mother clothed her was what kind of cut the dresses, the blouses and skirts had to have to made her feel both comfortable and beautiful. She felt like modesty was not against looking nice. She tried some things and bought them: she had to furbish her wardrobe. She also got herself proper heeled shoes, and she decided to wear something smart yet elegant to see Patrick.

Waiting for him in that street was agony and bliss. She felt so nervous she slightly trembled. She adjusted her glasses way too many times, and almost jumped every time she believe she recognized his car.

She tried to concentrate on something else, but the only thing she could think of was her new freedom. She did not felt trapped before, but she felt now more able to breath properly, more secure in the knowledge that her true calling was living her life to the fullest outside the convent's walls, not inside.

Patrick arrived a few minutes late: duty had called, he said. He apologised in the most acute and felt way, and at every unnecessary word after “sorry” she felt more inclined to kiss him.

She thought that they had not kissed yet, and he seemed to think the same. They blushed a little, but were interrupted, as somebody recognized him and greeted him.

«I believe I will better ask you to join me in a tea room for a warm cup of Darjeeling.» he proposed. She accepted, and took the arm he offered her, but just after she had looked around to see if there was anyone who could recognize her. She had nothing to be ashamed of, and yet she was.

They sat as awkwardly as in Miss Dawlish parlour in a very elegant Edwardian café, but as they asked for their afternoon tea delicacies and brew, it took a moment for them to find their own comforting silence again.

Shelagh had her hand on the table, and he moved towards it, and gently took it with his own.

«You look so splendid.» he said. She blushed even more and got hold of him.

«Thank you. I am getting better every day. My convalescence is proving miraculous.»

«I was not talking about that. Not entirely, at least.» Patrick specified.

They seemed unable to do anything less than smiling.

«I know.» she reassured him. They got interrupted only a few moments by the waiter, who left them with their cakes and china.

«Let me be mother this time.» Shelagh said, and felt almost an ache as she let his hand go to do so.

«There are so many things I want to ask you... and yet I don't know where to start, or if I should.» he began to say. She took her cup with both hands, as tenderly as she would cup his face. The warmth of the china made her relax a bit.

«So do I. But maybe we can start with simple things, familiar things... then we can sail on.»

He nodded.

«Where are you from, Shelagh? Scotland, perhaps.» he began to say.

«Aberdeen, up in the North.» she confirmed. «Are you a Londoner?»

«I was born in Liverpool, actually.» Patrick explained. «I studied medicine there, and specialized here in London. How did you end up here?»

«I was trained and I worked at the London Hospital, and then I felt the calling, and decided to take my vows. I was 24.»

Shelagh felt she had to ask something, but was not quite sure it was right, or it was not too painful for both of them. She took a deep breath.

«Did you meet your late wife here in London?»

Patrick did not even look at his ring finger now free but seemed to try and play with his now missing wedding band, or with the ghost of it.

«During the war, yes.» he said, but seemed not to want to explain. «Shelagh, I...»

He took a moment to regain his thoughts, and gestured her to let him speak.

«I was happy, before I lost her. Then I faced terrible times, but I bore them willingly and without a second thought, for Timothy. Yet... now that I have... that you are here with me, I feel truly happy. Happy as I have never felt.» he stated, sincerely as he could. She felt her eyes watering with joy.

«I know what I feel, but I don't mean we should necessarily... we don't have to...» he continued, but she took his hand again and shook her head a little.

«I read your letter, Patrick. And I wanted to reply to it, and yet... silence was the sound that we heard as we got closer. It will not be easy to brake it. I suggest we do it whispering, but clearly: let us not force or haste anything.» she explained. They both breathed more calmly, and yet hung onto each other's fingers tightly.

«I told you I am certain, and I know you are. But some things need to blossom slowly, and even if we are close, we are not yet fully open with our petals.» she continued. He nodded a little, but his eyes were eloquent.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Miss Dawlish had usually one or two friends for tea. Shelagh had noticed it once or twice, but had been busy to really pay attention to it.

Patrick had helped her in every possible way, taking her to places she needed to be, or wanted to be. They had often Timothy with them, and were bonding so strongly between them that she could hardly contain her joy. She craved, however, for something of a proper date: something like a dinner or the pictures... then she remembered all that she had given up, and the low profile she had insisted in having, for now. Every passing day, she felt like the debt of love and compassion she had with the nuns was too high to simply forget about it, or live with it in peace. Even if she had to live her life freely, she felt now that she had not to be loud or explicit: her happiness had to be modest, as showing it was a damage to all that had been part of her life before.

It was one afternoon that Patrick could not be there for her, that Miss Dawlish had invited her to tea. Her two friends, a spinster with a very sweet look to her and an elderly widowed lady with a wedding band on her finger and another at her neck, were looking at Shelagh as to the finest and most well preserved specimen of Queen Victoria's best embroidery. Her shyness was most fascinating for both of them.

«How lovely to finally meet you, Miss Mannion.» said the spinster, Miss Wither.

«Agatha has spoken so highly of you, we were quite curious.» continued the widower, Mrs Davenport.

«Miss Dawlish is too kind. I am nothing special myself.» replied Shelagh, adjusting her spectacles.

«I definitely disagree with you on this, my dear.» declared Agatha Dawlish, her big glasses on her nose and a tea tray firmly gripped by her hands. Shelagh insisted in helping her with the cake stands and the sandwiches.

When everything was settled, and Miss Dawlish had poured the tea for all of them, the two guests looked as if they were ready to enquire. The landlady had a different demeanour than the first days Shelagh had lived with her: having assessed that doctor Turner had the most honourable intentions, she was decided, like Jane Austen's Emma, to make this match secure.

«So, Miss Mannion. Agatha says you were a nun.» started Miss Wither.

«At Nonnatus house, right? In the order of St. Raymond Nonnatus.» continued Mrs Davenport. «When you came downstairs I remembered suddenly your face at church, just a year ago or so. I was so struck by the sweetness of your voice.»

Shelagh blushed.

«Thank you, madam. The sisters were always as kind as you have been with me, regarding my singing.» she replied, with a bit of melancholy in her tone and smile.

Miss Dawlish's sharp look prevented the guests to ask something else about the nuns: she could tell Shelagh had not really yet resolved her relationship with the sisters, even if she had understood that religious life was not her own.

«Do you have any plans, Miss Mannion? If I am not too indiscreet to ask it.» said Mrs Davenport. Miss Wither was restraining herself from talking, for she knew she was really the inappropriately curious one.

«Well, not for now really. I am getting familiar with my life again... I have some savings, so I will take advantage of those in the meantime.» she said, not really speaking what was in her heart or mind.

«Agatha says Doctor Turner visits very often.» exclaimed Miss Wither, unable to stay silent any more.

«Christine!» the widower scolded her. «How improper of you to say so!»

Shelagh blushed and was lost for words for a moment, but the look on Agatha Dawlish's face was very reassuring.

«It is not improper, Mrs Davenport.» she reassured her. «Doctor Turner has been visiting, we have been working together for a long time and we are good friends.»

Both of the guests looked at each other as if they did not buy it, but Agatha got a little bit closer to her new protégée.

«Not improper at all, as all of Doctor Turner's visits. Such a gentleman, isn't he my dear?» she tweeted. Shelagh nodded, and felt like a mother's blessing had just got to her.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick was on the threshold of Miss Dawlish' house, not daring to knock or call. He was nervous, like a schoolboy on his first day, and yet he was a fully grown man, some might say a middle aged one. His son was at home with the governess, so in safe hands, and the latter had all the details in case he was needed. The car was polished inside and out, and he was in his best suit with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, trembling slightly because of him. A proper date, finally. She deserved the best restaurant in town, and even if they were going to a very fine one instead of that, Shelagh had been so enthusiastic in her modesty. He could just imagine her in a colourful dress, with her bright smile and luminous eyes... he finally knocked.

Miss Dawlish opened the door and looked at the Doctor as if he was some prince out of an Andrew Lang fairy book. She seemed on the verge of crying, moved as only a mother could be, but restrained herself and invited Patrick Turner in.

«She's almost ready.» Agatha Dawlish reassured him. They sat in the parlour.

«Please don't look too disappointed when she comes down. Not that you would, really, I have never seen you disappointed in meeting her... but I tried to persuade her into trying some brighter colours, but I couldn't, really.» said the woman. Patrick nodded. He knew there was something in her that prevented her from living her new liberty to the fullest. He could not say why, or what that something was... but he was determined to find out, when he felt he could.

Shelagh was in her room, looking at herself in the mirror. She had a cream-coloured dress, with the skirt and jacket cut as in Chanel's own fashion, and a white blouse. Her blue eyes had just a hint of mascara – she had never learned to put it on before she took her vows, and the glasses were not helping with that, she had to wipe them twice before realising she had to wait for the make up to dry. She was trembling as much as he did before, and just as well imagining how dashing he would look. Shelagh even thought of little Tim, left at home without friends or family just for her own sake. She felt a little guilty, but decided to try and forget about it for a while. She only wanted to go on a date with Patrick, and her heart raced so fast she had to stand up and get downstairs before loosing her breath.

Shelagh entered the parlour and both Patrick and Agatha stood up. His smile was bright as the sun, and he approached her stopping only a feet away. He would have embraced her and kissed her, but it was not proper. He offered her the flowers.

«You look wonderful.» he murmured, making her blush. She smelled the flowers.

«Thank you.» she replied. They didn't say anything or moved for a few seconds, then Agatha approached them, taking the flowers with great tact and delicacy, to put them in water. He, however, caught a lily and offered it to Shelagh to wear. She picked it up and tried to put it on her own breast, but Patrick knew better. Gesturing to let him, she gave the flower back, and he secured it on her not so complicated and strict comb of hair.

«Have a lovely evening.» Agatha wished, watching them leave with his car.

Patrick offered her his arm, and she took it. Their hearts were pumping so fast they could almost hearing each other's beating. He opened the car door for her, and put himself at the wheel just after.

They drove to the restaurant in silence. Not uncomfortable silence, of course: Shelagh looked at him all the time, noticing how his eyes moved faster as he concentrated on something, or how steady his hands were at the wheel. Their eyes met every time he had to stop for a red light: time expanded in those moments, as they were long hours instead of few minutes.

They got to their destination, and Patrick helped her again with the door of the car and of the restaurant. Their table was one of the finest, and they were soon seated.

«I do really feel like a princess.» Shelagh said, smiling brightly and taking up the menu, just to occupy her hands.

«As you should.» Patrick confirmed. «I mean... I'm glad you do, that was my intention.» he continued, a bit embarrassed. He hold the menu just like her.

«You have been quite the gentleman, Patrick. A knight in shining armour, more like.» she confessed, feeling a bit more cheeky than she anticipated, but blushing considerably.

«Oh, I wouldn't know how to wear an armour... but I try my best.» he replied.

«Thank you.» she said, smiling so brightly he felt something warm spreading in his chest.

They looked at each other again, loosing themselves in that contact. Behind each other's eyes, there were entire universes. Shelagh was thinking how handsome and calm he looked, how gentle he was and how kind to her. How he could have chosen her, even for a thing like a date, let alone... and he was going on and on in his head on how lovely it felt to be around her, how soft her lips seemed, how desperately he wanted to kiss them...

The waiter interrupted them. He had a pitiful look on his face, as he was about to do something he feared greatly. They were not ready to order, but the boy shook his head.

«Doctor Turner?» he enquired.

«Yes, it's me.» Patrick replied.

«I am so sorry to interrupt. There is a call for you at the telephone.» the waiter explained.

Shelagh looked worried, and Patrick too. He felt a sour disappointment: duty had to call while he was with Shelagh? And especially on that date?

He excused himself with Shelagh.

«Don't even mention it, Patrick.» she reassured him. He was disappointed, yes, but she could not be anything but selfless.

He returned a minute later. He looked worried, and so did Shelagh, as if his emotions and hers were already intertwined.

«I am so sorry, I need... I need to go home, Timothy is not well.» he explained. Shelagh got up immediately, hanging to her little bag.

«Timothy is ill? What has he got?» she asked, her voice and demeanour upset.

«Strong pain at the side of the abdomen. Judging by the noises I heard and the tone of the governess, I'd better establish that it is not his appendix.» he said, passing a hand through his hair.

«Please, let me come with you. I want to help.» she exclaimed, almost as she feared he could leave her there alone. He stirred himself.

«Are you sure? You're not obliged... I could give you a lift home first.» he proposed. She shook her head.

«I want to know that Timothy is safe before that.» she stated, determined to do as she declared.

 


	5. Chapter 5

They got back to the car, and she gestured him that princess time was over: they had to be quick.

«His temperature?» she asked, as he drove away.

«The governess says it was raising.» he explained. They had to stop at a red light. She put a hand on his own, over the gear-shift.

«We will be there soon, and you will judge yourself what is wrong.» she tried to calm him. Her touch made a lot on that account.

The governess opened the door and let the doctor in. She was about to shut the door, but he prevented her. Shelagh followed him and barely looked at the frowning and disapproving face of that woman. Her kindness obliged her to say “good evening”, but she was too concerned for Timothy to do more than that. The governess showed them in, but Patrick firmly suggested she waited in the sitting room. As anyone could show him his own house! He got to Timothy's bedroom, and so did Shelagh. She sat next to the boy, on the bed.

«Sis... I mean, Miss Mannion.» said Tim, smiling brightly even if he looked pale. She put a hand on his forehead at the same time as his dad. She then took the boy's hands over the blanket.

«You can call me Shelagh, Timothy. No need for formalities.» she said.

Patrick caressed his son's hair and got a thermometer.

«Where does it hurt, Tim?» he asked, pressing then gently on his belly.

«I am sorry I spoiled your date.» said the boy, sighing.

«Don't even mention it.» she hurried to reply, her hands on his.

He made a little sneer, as his father inspected his abdomen. He took the thermometer out and looked at it. He sighed too, but for relief.

«You're temperature is not so high... just a few lines. And this might be you stealing the toffees from the sitting room, am I right?» Patrick asked. Tim made a very serious and guilty face. Shelagh smiled, relieved. Patrick thought of scolding him, but was too happy to say anything.

«I am really sorry.» Tim continued, especially towards Shelagh. She caressed his hair too.

«The important thing is that you are not in any danger.»

They looked like a true picture, and when they realised that, Patrick cleared his throat.

«I think I should give the news to the governess... and ask her to stay until I have taken you home.» he said, directly to Shelagh.

«But dad... I am fine, I mean... you had to have dinner, right? Have you eaten before she called you?» enquired Tim, between a cough and the other. Shelagh's stomach made a small noise.

«Yes, we had to dine... but we won't leave you, Tim.» she stated, sitting more straight.

That “we” made Patrick's heart jump.

«I could take the governess home, and prepare you something.» he proposed.

Tim looked alarmed.

«Dad, I don't think it's a good idea. If you poison Shelagh, you won't get any other date.» he explained. The woman blushed and Patrick looked uncomfortable. She thought he was more adorable than ever.

«If you permit me, I will cook something.» she said.

«You don't have to, I...» Patrick replied. «I didn't want you to do anything tonight, apart from...» he blushed this time. She shook her head.

«I'll be glad to, really.» she reassured him.

Shelagh had that strong ability to make him feel at ease, safe and calm. And he realised he didn't want anything else in life.

«I'll get the governess home, then. Would you wait for me here?» he asked. Shelagh nodded, and he was out.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Shelagh couldn't help but smile at Timothy. He looked a lot like his father, but had such wit that he might have taken from his mother, or that side of the family. Sometimes, even Patrick had a very good sense of humour, but not as sharp as his son's. She cuddled him very quietly and discreetly, and he seemed to relax altogether.

«Can I ask you something?» he said, after a few long moments. The door had been shut, a sign that his father was out. He had his eyes closed too.

«Of course you can.» Shelagh replied.

«Do you love my dad?» he asked, opening his eyes again. Shelagh was struck by the directness and innocence by which that question had been declared. She was about to say that it was too soon, that she didn't really know, that... but she took a moment to consider her answer, and when she realised it, her whole being was lightened up.

«Yes, I do. What you think about it?» she was the one to ask now. He seemed to consider it, just as he had received confirmation of a suspect in a mystery novel.

«I remember when mum died. He was so sad but tried not to show me. He was very brave.» Tim explained. Shelagh was particularly moved by his words, but tried to repress her tears. «And since you were at the sanatorium I could see he was sad again, but not as before. It was like he didn't know what to do... then you got out, and he seemed to know how to get along with it. He's lost again, and I think I know why.»

«Why is that?» she encouraged him.

«Because I think he would like to kiss you, but hasn't decided if he can yet.» he simply explained.

Shelagh burst into a little laugh.

«If he tried, would you let him?» he enquired.

«That is for me to decide, young lad.» she giggled.

He giggled a bit but got a cough out of his throat for it. She helped him through and tugged his blanket afterwards.

«You know, I would really like my dad to kiss you. And I would really like the two of you to marry.» said Tim. He felt more tired and more vulnerable, enough to be sincere. «Because I like you very much, and I will be very happy if you would be my new mum.»

Shelagh was speechless. Those words, the way they were said, moved her deeply and made her shed a couple of tears. She kissed the boy's forehead.

«Dad will be so jealous when I tell him...» he murmured, and Shelagh had a little, weepy laugh.

«Rest now, Tim. I will prepare something for you too.» she said, and after a bit, when she was quite confident he was asleep, she added: «I would really like to be your mum too.»

 


	7. Chapter 7

When Patrick got back home, Shelagh had managed to cook a bit of broth for Tim, and a nice dinner for the two of them. Nothing special, of course, or too elaborate or heavy, but nice. Seeing her by the cooking stove, with an apron to avoid stains on her new dress, and with a welcoming smile made him resolute. He had to ask her to marry him. But how? And what about Tim? His mother had died something like three years before... he didn't want him to suffer.

«You shouldn't have fussed this much, Shelagh.» he said, getting closer to her, as to kiss her, but stopped. He just caressed her arm.

«It was no fuss really. I enjoyed it, actually.» she replied. «Tim was asleep before... I made him something warm.»

Patrick saw the broth and sighed a little.

«I will get it to him and see that he takes some anti-inflammatory to ease the fever away.» he said. Shelagh nodded.

«But first...» he said, moving towards her. Shelagh's heart raced rapidly, only to almost stop as he undid the bow of her apron and, taking her hand, got her to the other side of the open wall, to the little table the governess had dressed for her own dinner before. He helped her sitting on the chair, just like at the restaurant.

«I am sorry, I have to ask you to wait for me a little longer, for me to see Tim. I'll be back shortly.» he said, kissing her hand before letting it go. Shelagh nodded, murmuring that there was no problem at all.

Tim was awake, in fact, and smiled at his dad as he entered.

«How are you feeling, son?» Patrick enquired, caressing his forehead to ascertain if the temperature was still high. He had left the broth on the bedside table, and sat where Shelagh had sat, beside him on the bed.

«A bit better.» Tim said, coughing slightly. «Is Shelagh still here?»

«Yes she is. She prepared something for you, and for me.» Patrick explained.

«Dad, I am really sorry I spoiled your date with her.» Tim said.

«Tim, you apologised a lot for this... and you never apologise too much.» his father stated, a bit worried.

«I knew this was important for you. I am not blind you know. I see how happy you are with her.» Tim explained, standing a bit up. Patrick was struck but his words.

«I think you should think about yourself this once. If you love her, you should marry her. You don't need my permission.» continued the boy.

Patrick took a breath but was lost for words.

«And even if you needed it, I will give it. I like her a lot, dad. I liked her when she was Sister Bernadette, actually. I've always liked her.» continued the boy.

«Now, I will take some medicine and go to sleep. You have your date, and when I get better we will make up a particularly romantic plan, so that when you ask her, we'll make sure she says yes.»

Patrick helped Tim to take his broth and his medicine, and tucked him again under the blankets.

«When you make your mind up, it is quite impossible to stop you, am I right?» asked the doctor. Tim grinned a bit, even if he felt so tired and sleepy.

«Like you, dad.» he murmured.

«Now get some rest. We will plan very soon.» Patrick promised. «Thank you, Timothy.»

His son mumbled something, but was lost in Morpheus' arms before he could say goodnight and kissed his forehead too.

 


End file.
